This blog is not affiliated in any way with Cindy Crawford. Even if she is its de facto inspiration. It's also not affiliated in any way with Hayden Panettiere, who's earned joint top billing on this blog because she makes me happy. And that ain't easy.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Vanessa: Channel 4, for their upcoming sub-fourth form bid for attention... er, drama about G.W. Bush's assassination. (As one wag noted, there's only one way it'll be pulled...)

Cindy:

Vanessa: The MTV Music Video Awards. Madonna, Kanye West and Christina Aguileraisacunt going home empty-handed and works by Shakira, the Pussycat Dolls, Beyonce and Kelly Clarkson managing to bag one each do not really make up for James Blunt winning two. He should never be the big winner at these things. Or any things not involving wusses.

Cindy: John Williams, proving yet again that he has no peers when it comes to making me even mildly interested in sports (along with Gayle "Where is she now?" Gardner, he can take all the credit for getting me to watch some of the 1988 Olympics) - he's written the new theme for Monday Night Football. Expect it to be out online by the end of the first game.

Vanessa: Work this week. Have you ever had to country-sort thousands of pieces of mail? And mailsort several more thousand as it comes off the printing line and bag them up? And have to rush through some of them rather than take the time to separate the letters that get stuck together? Better to be busy than go through a fallow patch, I admit, but that fallow patch is lookin' mighty tempting now.

Vanessa: Joseph Stefano, he of The Outer Limits and Psycho, passing on.

Cindy: The guy who wrote to me gushing over The Longest Weekend. If that doesn't inspire me to get a move on...

Vanessa: Adult Swim being classified on Bravo's EPG as one two-hour block instead of each show (including shows which I believe weren't part of it in America, like Kid Notorious and Stripperella) getting its own listing. Oafs...

The James Horner Spot.

The Tell Them Who I Am Spot.

...is a 43-year-old guy who likes listening to film and TV music, whose days of eating entire packets of biscuits are gone thanks to the ol' diabetes, whose hair - thanks to genetics - now has a bald spot on top but who is fortunately 6'2" so it's hard to see, who enjoys the box (particularly American shows - and the often-made British claim that "we only see the best of US TV" is a fallacy as anyone who has cable will testify. I think it's Americans who only see the best of Br... I hate that term, so I refuse to sully this blog with it), who's gotten most of his friends through stories and the net, who loves writing about attractive female celebrities, who slaves at a direct mail company, and who isn't as sorry he grew up in Barbados between 1976 and 1993 as he used to be. Oh, and he doesn't seem any emotionally different from when he was 12. A man really is a child grown up, child is father of the man, and so on...